“Do you wonder why I ask you this?” she said. “I will tell you, though probably when I have done so you will never speak to me again. I am Edward Cossey’s discarded mistress,” and she laughed bitterly enough. Ida shrank a little and coloured, as a pure and high-minded woman naturally does when she is for the first time suddenly brought into actual contact with impurity and passion. “I know,” went on Belle, “that I must seem a shameful thing to you; but, Miss de la Molle, good and cold and stately as you are, pray God that you may never be thrown into temptation; pray God that you may never be married almost by force to a man whom you hate, and then suddenly learn what a thing it is to fall in love, and for the first time feel your life awake.” “Hush,” said Ida gently, “what right have I to judge you?” “I loved him,” went on Belle, “I loved him passionately, and for a while it was as though heaven had opened its gates, for he used to care for me a little, and I think he would have taken me away and married me afterwards, but I would not hear of it, because I knew that it would ruin him. He offered to, once, and I refused, and within three hours of that I believe he was bargaining for you. Well, and then it was the old story, he fell more and more in love with you and of course I had no hold upon him.” “Yes,” said Ida, moving impatiently, “but why do you tell me all this? It is very painful and I had rather not hear it.” “Why do I tell you? I tell you because I do not wish you to marry Edward Cossey. I tell you because I wish _him_ to feel a little of what _I_ have to feel, and because I have said that he should _not_ marry you.” “I wish that you could prevent it,” said Ida, with a sudden outburst. “I am sure you are quite welcome to Mr. Cossey so far as I am concerned, for I detest him, and I cannot imagine how any woman could ever have done otherwise.” “Thank you,” said Belle; “but I have done with Mr. Cossey, and I think I hate him too. I know that I did hate him when I met him in the street just now and he told me that he was not engaged to you. You say that you detest him, why then do you marry him—you are a free woman?” “Do you want to know?” said Ida, wheeling round and looking her visitor full in the face. “I am going to marry him for the same reason that you say caused you to marry—because I _must_. I am going to marry him because he lent us money on condition that I promised to marry him, and as I have taken the money, I must give him his price, even if it breaks my heart. You think that you are wretched; how do you know that I am not fifty times as wretched? Your lot is to lose your lover, mine is to have one forced upon me and endure him all my life. The worst of your pain is over, all mine is to come.”